


sing a victory cheer (or something like that)

by helsinkibaby



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: 2.17 post ep, F/M, First Time, Het, Porn Battle, Victory Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 11:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3408161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helsinkibaby/pseuds/helsinkibaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened after that hug in "Awakening"</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing a victory cheer (or something like that)

**Author's Note:**

> I said someone who was not me should do it, and then I did it anyway.  
> Prompts taken from the Porn Battle Amnesty Round - victory sex, fingertips, bruise, trust.

He might not know quite how he got here, or even where here is, but the one thing Frank is sure of as he starts to slowly come back to himself is that Jenny Mills is lying on top of him, her arms around his neck, her fingers in his hair. His eyes are closed, because opening them would take more energy than he has, and apparently lack of vision means your other senses really do compensate because he's keenly aware of her body trembling, that her breath is coming in quick gasps that almost double as sobs. His arms are round her, he realises, but he can't feel much because he's wearing gloves, and there's a damn sword or something on his back that hurts like a son of a bitch to lie on. 

But wherever he is, he's here, and he knows that thing, that evil that permeated his soul is gone. 

A little backache is a small price to pay. 

Jenny straightens up, just a little but he misses the weight of her against him immediately, opens his eyes when nimble fingertips find his chest. He soon figures out that she's undoing the buckle that's holding the sword to him; she makes short work of that and then slides the sword out from under him, pushing it across the room. It slides across the stone floor with a terrible scrape and he watches it move across the patterns that look so familiar. It comes to him then, that this is the Masonic Cell they'd trapped the Horseman in months ago, and that knowledge tells him all he needs to know about the threat he'd posed to her. 

"Did I hurt you?" he asks and she shakes her head. The relief that overtakes him is powerful, has him sagging back against the flagstones. "Good," he says as he closes his eyes and breathes a silent prayer to a God he's not altogether sure he believes in anymore. "Good."

Jenny's hands remain on his chest for the briefest of moments before they slide back around his neck and she hugs him again. He frowns, not because it's not welcome but because the trembling he noticed earlier has developed into full-on shaking. He's not sure if it's residual fear or just relief but he holds her tightly, wrapping his arms around her while still managing to strip off his leather gloves as quickly as he can, the better to feel her reaction, know if his touch is having an effect. 

His hands move up and down her back and the movement does seem to calm her tremors.  Of course, it becomes readily apparent to him that the touch isn't just having an effect on her. 

When that fact becomes apparent to her too, she lifts her head from his shoulder, looks down at him with eyes that are dark and serious. "Would you believe it's my sidearm?" he hears himself say and she blinks before the most wonderful smile breaks over her face. 

It's almost as beautiful as the laugh that comes next. 

The laugh that fades when one of his hands reaches up, touches her cheek before pushing back to find her hair, find the tie that's holding it up and tug at it. He means to be gentle but she winces and he's about to apologise, either for the pain or the touch, when she reaches up with two hands, uses one to hold her ponytail in place, the other to pull the tie out. Instantly a riot of curls cascades around her shoulders and she tosses the tie somewhere - he doesn't know where, nor does he care - as his fingers reach up to tangle in her hair. Her eyes flutter shut as her hands return to his chest and she sucks in a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "Frank," she whispers and the tone of her voice, the touch of longing he hears there has him reacting without thinking, pulling her head down and bringing her lips to his. 

The second their lips meet, it's like a fuse has been lit. Her hands are around his neck, cupping the back of his head and she moves slightly so that she's straddling him, legs on either side of his hips, pressing against him right where he wants her. One hand stays in her hair, pressing against the back of her head, while the other slides down her back, resting on the curve of her ass. He kisses her until he can't breathe, until he can't stop, until he wants to do far more than kiss her and when she pulls back, her voice is shaking like her body was moments ago. "Promise me it's you."

"It's me, Jenny," he tells her, hands resting on her hips, pulling her down as he thrusts up. It's not the first time he's told her that but he'll tell her as many times as she needs to hear it. Her moan sends a shiver down his spine. "It's me."

She stares at him for what seems like a very long time and he holds still, no matter the difficulty, because he knows what she's doing. She's studying him, assessing him, testing if what he says is true. 

Eventually, she nods. "I trust you," she says and she doesn't need to tell him what a big statement that is for her to make, after all she's seen, after all he's done. 

He touches her cheek and he nods, lets her know that he understands and she smiles down at him as her hands leave his chest, reaching up to unzip her hoodie, slide it off her body. He helps her with her tank top, pulling it loose from her jeans, helping her pull it over her head and she laughs with a tinge of embarrassment as her hair flies in several different directions. Her cheeks flush and he reaches up, shakes his head as his fingers slide through it, the way he wanted to in the bar recently. "Beautiful," he tells her and the flush darkens. She bites her lip but busies her hands, helping to take his many layers off - and what in the hell is he wearing, he wonders, because he remembers putting none of this on - and he tells her, "You're still a sight for sore eyes." Her eyes widen in surprise and he touches her cheek. "That was me too," he tells her and she makes a noise caught between a laugh and a sob, leaning down and kissing him again. 

He kisses her back, rolls them over so that he's on top of her, which makes it easier for them to remove whatever the damn hell he's wearing. Trousers come off easier, for both of them and from then it's an easy matter for them to be skin to skin, for his hands to move over her body, tracing her curves, learning how she likes to be touched, what makes her arch against him, what makes her moan, what makes her curse and swear and pull him closer. 

Her own fingers aren't idle either, making their way across his body, making him shiver and in some cases making him wince. He's got some bruises that he doesn't remember getting, some pretty fresh and those are the ones that her fingertips linger on, the ones that make her  frown. He has a feeling he knows what that means but he doesn't want to deal with that, not now, not like this. Instead he redoubles his efforts, finds an apparently particularly sensitive spot, one of the ones that makes her gasp his name and doesn't he want to hear that sound over and over again. 

She must feel the same way because she reaches down, hands closing over him, stroking him. It's her turn to make him moan and her lips curl in a smile.  "Jenny..." Her name comes out like a question, asking if she's sure, if this is what she wants, if he should stop. 

"It's ok," she tells him. "I'm safe." 

He swallows hard, leans down and presses his lips to hers again as he positions himself against her, sliding inside her easily. The sound she makes is nothing he can describe, but it's another sound he wants to hear over and over again, and as they move together, finding a rhythm easily, he gets his wish. She's loud, letting him know exactly what she wants, what she needs and he doesn't let her down, touches her in all the right places to have her coming apart in his arms, her release triggering his own and he holds her more tightly still as they ride the storm out together. 

She lies boneless in his arms and he kisses her as she comes down, long lazy kisses that only make him want her more. She sighs against his lips and he feels her smile. "Welcome back, Frank," she murmurs and he smiles too before his hands move down her body all over again. 

He knows eventually they'll have to come up for air. For now, though? This is more than enough. 


End file.
